Today’s the boy’s birthday and he loves it… I think. He doesn’t exactly verbalize everything clearly, yet, but he’s jumped for joy a few times already and we’re still in the AM and haven’t even given him his multitude of gifts. As for the jumping for joy, I wish that I still did that, but at my age I’d probably break my hip or at the least, twist my ankle.
Shouts of “happy birthday” greeted the little guy as my wife ceremoniously paraded him into the kitchen right after he woke up. My daughter’s over-exuberant chant excited the birthday boy so much that the second his toes touched linoleum he leapt toward the ceiling and cackled. Then he noticed the toy cars assembled around a Little People birthday cake and got air, again, and immediately joined in on the celebration with his little wheeled friends.
There are probably at least one hundred toy cars in our house at the moment and I have the feeling there will be many more by the end of the day. It’s not that I think the boy cars and girl cars are up to something, even though that would be worth watching or videoing, I just know that the pool of gift-givers coming to the party knows that he loves cars and will shower him with them.
I’m guessing that the boy’s jumps for joy will multiply exponentially as the day goes on and it will be a birthday to remember. For us that is, because at two his memories will most likely just grow out of the plethora of pictures that will be taken today so I better smile whether I’m happy, frazzled or delirious. My guess is I’ll be the former most of the day unless, of course, the kids don’t do exactly what I want them to do… quietly.
You know what they say about noisy kids, at least you know what they’re up to, it’s the quiet ones you have to worry about.
The boy was the quiet child last night and was up to something. It’s amazing how little kids seem to know when they can get away with things, I hope they stop this once they get older.
My wife was in the precarious position of being home alone with the kids and our dog last night. You need to be creative to keep the unattended child occupied while taking care of the other one and that’s exactly what she did last night… and it still didn’t work. She set the boy up with a racetrack and some other favorite toys of his on the kitchen floor while she helped our daughter on the potty (that means toilet for you non-parents). He should have been overjoyed and preoccupied with all this cool stuff, I know I would’ve been. I could watch that toy race car go around the track over and over and over and over. You get the point.
The donut box on the kitchen countertop must’ve caught his attention… like father, like son. In a Homer Simpson moment he decided that he must have them because they were there. Admit it, we’ve all been there, I know that I can barely walk out of the room if I know there are still some donuts left in the box. He must’ve pulled the box down gently because there wasn’t enough crumbage to indicate otherwise. He then proceeded to take little rabbit-bites out of each one of the six donuts that remained from breakfast.
This is around the time my wife’s sixth sense kicked in. You know, the I better see what the Hell the kids are up to sense. When my wife walked in the boy looked up at her with his patented cheesy grin and said, “Cookie!” At the sight of this gluttonous display she immediately joined him on the floor and started nibbling on donuts, too, while ignoring our daughter’s plea for help coming from the bathroom. I’m kidding, our daughter wasn’t asking for help… oh, yeah, my wife didn’t actually join in, but did find it hilarious and decided to look for the camera. Unfortunately, I’d left it in the diaper bag the day before so this event passed us by without visual documentation to be used as a blackmail tool later in his life.
I’m sure that it was one of those parental moments when you have to ask yourself if you’re supposed to be upset, but aren’t because it’s so freaking funny. I know the mommy wasn’t angry because she called me up while still laughing.
The ironic thing about this story is that we’ve never had to worry about leaving food out because our dog will not touch it without permission, but now we’ll have to worry about our second-born son, the human one. Maybe our dog can take him under his
wing paw and teach him to be more respectful of our food.